


Plus Ça Change

by obstinatrix



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Canon Disabled Character, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Old mutants in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4667013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinatrix/pseuds/obstinatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles doesn't need to keep souvenirs when he has the real thing. He doesn't need to, but that doesn't stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plus Ça Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kageillusionz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Leather Jacket](https://archiveofourown.org/works/515485) by [kageillusionz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/pseuds/kageillusionz). 



"I can't believe you still have that damned thing," Erik said. Charles recognised his tone at once: he was going for 'critical professor', but the underlying thrum of warm amusement gave him away. Charles could feel it radiating from his mind, too, how _I can't believe_ was really Erik--speak for _I secretly adore_. 

"Don't lie to me," Charles said mildly, laying the jacket gently on the bed and reaching back into the wardrobe for the picnic blanket he'd originally been looking for, which was -- for once -- right where he'd left it, at the back of the lower shelf. "You tell me fifty times a week what a sentimental old git I am; how could you possibly be surprised?" 

"Hardly fifty." 

" _Well_." Charles closed the wardrobe door and looked up at Erik with his mouth quirked. "Besides, you can't tell me you've never noticed this in here before." 

"I haven't!" Erik protested. He was reaching down to scoop up the bundle in his arms, now, long fingers smoothing over the leather, and Charles felt the sensation both as a memory and under Erik's fingertips in the here and now, the butter-soft glide and the yield of the material. "Or at least, I don't think I realised it was this one. _That_ one." 

"Say it," Charles prompted, and they were both smiling now, Erik despite himself. " _The one you were wearing_ \--" 

"The summer we met," Erik said, and rolled his eyes. The smile was still tugging at the corners of his mouth, though. 

"Over your set of identical turtlenecks. I always wondered how you hadn't died of heatstroke." 

"It was unseasonably cold!" 

"Erik, you'd spent several years living in _Israel_ , there's no way you were cold." Charles took the jacket back, very gently, from Erik's hands and allowed himself a moment to weigh it, breathing in the smell. Erik still had a psuedo-leather jacket that looked awfully good on him, and Charles couldn't argue with the decisions he'd come to regarding wearing animals, but still, there was something about the real thing. "You were simply putting up with the discomfort because you thought it looked cool." 

"And what did _you_ think?" Erik smirked, everything in his face and posture acknowledging that of course he knew the answer already, just wanted to hear Charles say it. Thirty years since Erik had moved into the mansion, thirty years after that day in Cuba when he'd cupped Charles's face and said _I can't leave you_ , and Charles still couldn't get enough of that smirk, nor the stupid gorgeous cockiness that buoyed it up. 

"You're an insufferably immodest arsehole when you want to be; has anyone ever told you that?"  
"Mm, I might have heard that once or twice." Erik took the jacket back from Charles's arms and threw one long leg unceremoniously across the chair, and Charles lifted his face willingly to be kissed as Erik settled himself in his long-familiar, long-preferred position in Charles's lap. "Forgive me, though, if I might sometimes need a little reassurance. After all, you're up here daydreaming about a hot young thing in leather, and meanwhile here am I, a harmless East Coast schoolteacher --" 

Charles's snort of laughter actually took him by surprise. "Oh, give _over!_ " 

"Well!" Erik was insistent, teasing; and God but Charles had always loved him like this, playful in the way he had never expected Erik Lehnsherr could be, not at first. The young man in the leather jacket had been many things, but light-hearted was not one of them. There was much to be said for serious mindedness and a strong sense of purpose, but if Charles were forced to choose between that Erik and this one, blue eyes bright with amusement, he knew which he'd pick, any day. 

"You have never been harmless a day in your life." Charles lifted a hand, pushed it into the thick spill of hair at Erik's temple where the silver had mostly taken it over, and felt Erik's pleasure spread between them as he nuzzled into the touch like a cat. "Come here." 

"Should I put on the jacket?" But Erik was already ducking his head, ghosting his lips across the sensitive hollow of Charles's throat; Charles's fist tightened involuntarily as Erik pressed closer, pressed a kiss to Charles's skin. 

"You have a class," Charles pointed out weakly. "You need to -- mmm yes _there_ \--" 

It was shameful, really, how easily Erik could undo him. The years of practice certainly helped, but still, Charles was surely old enough now (he told himself) to be able to resist when Erik scraped his teeth across that spot just there, instead of arching his neck and tugging at Erik's hair to pull him closer. They did both have obligations, and Charles was very serious about making sure those obligations were fulfilled; but then, on the other hand, it _was_ only a very short trip from here to the classrooms, and since they had at least five minutes and realistically could get to where they needed to be in two, he could probably allow himself the indulgence. After all, it wasn't as if 

"Professor, just before we get started I wondered -- oh." 

The door slammed shut so hard it shook the whole second storey, and Charles felt the flush flood up from his collarbones and into his face as he stared at the place where, however briefly, Kitty's shocked face had been. 

"Shit," Charles said, and then, "Get off me right now; you are the _worst_ influence --" 

Erik didn't stop laughing the whole time Charles was straightening his tie, which did absolutely nothing to make his blush go down. 

"She should have known she was in danger of mental scarring if she didn't bother to knock," he pointed out, very reasonably (or so he thought) as they descended in the elevator. "Besides, I'm the one she has for a mentor; _I'm_ the one who --" 

"Yes, all right, all right," Charles said tightly. He could feel Erik's amusement still wrapping him up in waves, and honestly it would have been more annoying if it hadn't been rather nice. It was true, Erik was Kitty's assigned mentor, and he'd always been a surprisingly good one, especially in that particular case. Charles didn't doubt that Erik would face her with absolutely no shame whatsoever; it was just unfortunate for Charles that he was the one about to teach a biology lesson while trying not to meet her lowered eyes in the front row. 

"You'll be fine," Erik said at last, relenting, and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Charles's head. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

***

Saturday mornings, traditionally, started with a ramble around the grounds for any faculty and students with the time and inclination. When Erik showed up five minutes late in the damn leather jacket (which still fitted perfectly, of bloody course) it took all Charles's energy to prevent yesterday's Blush That Ate Manhattan from making a reappearance.

 _This is you making it up to me?_

Erik tilted his head and smiled, falling into step alongside Charles's chair as it rolled down the drive. 

_Darling, this is merely a precursor_. 

After that, there was no stopping the blush, but Charles found that getting to wrestle a very willing Erik out of the damned jacket the moment they got back to their room went some way towards making up for it. Time moved on, faster than Charles could credit sometimes, and Erik had changed, as Charles himself had, of course. But some things -- like the way he felt when it hit him all over again that this was their room, their bed, their life -- some things stayed just the same as always.


End file.
